


Premonition in Decaf

by GeneralLoki



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Bittersweet, Gen, Indirect Kiss, M/M, Rivalry, Takes place Mid palace 6, accidentally dating, and it's complicated, hinting at spoilers, it's vague, mostly taunting, one shot for now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-11-05 03:22:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11004912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeneralLoki/pseuds/GeneralLoki
Summary: No matter how confidently Akechi carried himself on the battlefield, something about it irked Akira. Of course he knew exactly what the problem was, but actually talking about that with the detective? That was the issue--one he couldn't exactly avoid forever. Not when Akechi could impact the team in a serious way. And not when it distracted him this much either.What's the best way to make the detective prince a captive audience?





	Premonition in Decaf

A premonition lurched in Joker's stomach and traveled up to his throat. Breaths still passed between his lips—quieted with the hefty footfalls belonging to shadows trudging around the corner. He pressed against the wall, his new cohort at his side. Further down the hall where they'd come from the incessant noise of the casino slots singing drowned out to a waning cry. If it weren't for that the employee halls would feel like another world. 

He tried not to think about the world outside this cognitive space—what it looked like, how close it drove them to danger, what would happen if he chose to ignore this particular request. More like a coercion than a request. 

That very physical, bodily feeling laced the ends of his fingertips sealed safely under gloves. One hand helped confirm and press against the wall behind his back, the other hand free to grasp his blade if things went poorly. His focus split briefly as the new partner nudged a bit closer, trying to have a look for himself at the situation around the corner.

“They look strong,” Crow murmured as he leaned in front of Joker to get a better look. Almost comically, the beak of his mask poked around the corner, but the whole figure of the detective left Joker pushed up against the wall to avoid making too much contact. Crow retreated back soon enough, his posture straightening out—a little too perfect. He seemed to wait for Joker's focus and when their eyes met, he smiled with a sort of casual ease that would have seemed out of place if he too hadn't adjusted to cognitive forays. 

And yet there was something dangerous about it. About Crow, Akechi, in general. He found himself fighting mental slippage on the codename. This was the same Goro Akechi who had held himself with such poise in public and still wound up depressed and distraught in Leblanc. This time they met evenly—mask to mask—gaze charged. Whatever he sensed about Akechi, he set that aside for a moment to actually answer him. 

“One turns the hall—we take the closer one then. We take them out before the second comes back,” Joker decided firmly, confidently—at least enough to match the aura of assurance emanating from Crow. That sick feeling still tangled in his stomach but he'd fought it down at least that far. Crow didn't seem to notice anything at least. He smiled and even gently clapped his hands together once.

“Now I'm seeing how the Phantom Thieves leader operates and plans their battles. Fascinating to see your work up close,” Crow replied. 

Something about that answer felt like a trap. Joker took his time, turning back to look at the pacing shadow guards around the corner once more. A few more moments before the other was out of sight...

“Everything you dreamed of?”

“That and more,” Crow laughed lightly. 

That laugh drained all the fun out of Joker's body. Usually he could find a little thrill in all this, but Crow's cross of casual and enchanted weighed on him. Maybe it was more what the detective represented—the possible end of the Phantom Thieves. He felt a sensation worming back up into his chest. 

No, not here.

He grinned crookedly back at Crow, head tilted slightly as if to spur him on a little more. “Try to keep up.” 

On that note he sprung around from their hiding point and charged across the gray floors toward the first shadow. With a practiced ease he vaulted up onto the shadow's back and shoulders, his hand guided almost if by something else to meet perfectly with the mask of his enemy—ripping it off and casting it aside. As the enemy reformed Joker hopped back, knife ready this time as Crow joined close at his right hip. Filling in from the back two other partners in “crime” drew horizontally over the space of the hallway—Skull and Queen—effectively set to all tear into the shadow as soon as it was clear. 

At this point the greater collective of the Phantom Thieves had already somewhat mastered maneuvering around each other—knowing the others' range and reach, their skills and how they might generally use them. Between them they called out moves as they were in need of space to safely used them, but for the most part the Thieves had an undeniable flow. Each fixed as a piece of puzzle into the other—balance each other out and supporting them as more shadows rolled in. Something in Joker swelled seeing how smoothly this encounter was going. They were always pretty in sync but perhaps his own thirst for this fight translated across to the rest of them. 

Skull remained unshakeable at his side—covering as Joker made some strategic checks on their enemies, eventually giving them an upper hand that Queen could use to tear into them. The three of them as one unit handled much of this battle. One element remained shaky in the lineup and Joker didn't miss a second of it. 

Crow took to mostly holding his own with an enemy slightly less in focus or ones aiming for Queen before they could reach her. That he acted outside the group dynamic threw off some of their own flow. He wasn't terrible out of sync—his moves were efficient and certainly wouldn't get anyone killed, but Joker felt it distinctly: Crow didn't know how to function as a team. 

Joker framed it in steel at the front of his mind: A Future Liability. 

Once the room was clear Crow let out a breath of relief, the smile returning to his face again. “They were pretty tough. But look at that. All cleaned up,” he said as if he'd expected worse somehow. 

Maybe he did. 

Joker's hands fit into his pockets and he approached Crow. “We need to talk.”

The smile fell from Crow's face, a more confused look settling over him. “Right now?”

“After we break for today.” 

Crow's eyes searched Joker's face in a quick scan of his features—something to tell him what was going on in the other's head. It was either fruitful or he gave up. “Very well. Whatever you say, leader.” 

Joker ignored the odd tone in that final word, instead turning his back on Crow and leading the group onward. He caught Skull and Queen exchanging looks , but he could explain it to them later. If he was going to have to carry the label of “leader” he might as well do it right. 

 

* * *

 

When they finally left the cognitive world it was wearing down into the last shreds of the evening outside. That feeling from earlier stuck with Akira as he made his way home. A part of him was still processing everything about the new palace—so much so he was back at Leblanc before he really expected it. His eyes trailed up to the now familiar sign above, then to the placard reading “OPEN” still flipped out his way. His fingers grasped the door handle and he let himself in. 

Within Sojiro was just cleaning up the last few things in the shop—a quick wipe down of the counter and the towel was tossed back into it's place.

“You're late aren't you?” he commented dryly. Akira expected that much at this point. The old man seemed especially tired for some reason. 

“Long day.” 

Sojiro accepted that as well as he could be expected to. At this point he'd gotten used to some of the shifts in his mood. It had probably been an especially slow day. Of course he'd be more irritable. He made his way out from around the counter, nearly to the door when another figure stepped in.

“Well, you're open later than I thought,” the figure commented in a cheery tone Akira knew pretty well now. 

Akechi stood between Sojiro and his exit home, almost unaware of himself before stepping aside. It didn't really fix the slightly annoyed look on the old man's face. 

“I'm closing right now.”

“Oh that shouldn't be a problem. I'm here to talk to him,” Akechi replied cooly, tilting his head slightly Akira's way. 

He felt a shift in the weight of the back on his shoulder, Morgana sticking his head out to observe. At least he wasn't going to have to deal with Akechi entirely by himself. 

“This late?” Sojiro pressed, an eyebrow raised the detective's way, then Akira's by association. 

“It should be short,” Akechi insisted. 

Sojiro groaned and moved to flip the sign to read CLOSED. “If you use anything, clean it up. I'm not going to police your bedtime but don't have friends here overnight.” 

“My thanks,” Akechi said as Sojiro stepped outside. The old man didn't exactly welcome the gesture, shrugging it off and heading home. Akira knew he was expected to lock up—he'd gotten the drill by now. 

Once his guardian was out of the picture Akira took a seat at one of the chairs lining the counter. In all honesty, with everything that happened in the palace that day he'd almost forgotten he asked to talk with Akechi. It seemed the detective didn't forget. And didn't think he should just call or message him. He was here, in the flesh. Something about it irked Akira, but he couldn't put a finger on why exactly. Morgana helped himself out of the bag, sitting in a chair at his right. 

“You know when you said you wanted to talk it seemed urgent. So I took you very seriously. I had something to attend to, but with that out of the way, you have my full attention,” Akechi said to begin. He remained standing for the moment but did stand close to one of the chairs at Akira's other side. 

Against his better judgement, Akira stood up. Morgana looked confused at first, but understood when his path took him around and behind the counter. “Coffee?” he offered shortly as he pulled on his apron.

Akechi looked a touch surprised himself, but soon smiled once more. “If you're offering, how can I say no?” 

There wasn't a ton of it around, but he picked out something decaf. It wasn't going to be the best blend or anything, but he had a feeling Akechi would drink it and like it regardless. He didn't seem to be one to complain about what he ate. The invitation finally drew Akechi into one of the counter chairs, his hands folded neatly on the surface. 

“Coffee and then we talk, I suppose?” 

“Unless you want to come back here and help.”

The tone of the suggestion puzzled the detective for a moment. He couldn't seem to gauge it at first. 

“Would your Boss allow me back there?”

“He's not here right now.”

That seemed more open and gave clearance for Akechi to laugh a little. “It sounds to me like you'd rather have me back there.” 

“Well you handle yourself so well in a fight I figure you can handle a little coffee.” 

Akira's remark seemed to caught Akechi a little off guard. His usual smile stiffened slightly—almost annoyed somehow. “I can't say that I'm as good as you are. You certainly make it look easy.” 

Rather than answer that, Akira instead shifting his weight to one leg, arms crossed for a second. He gives Akechi another moment before turning toward the back kitchen area and producing another apron. “This one's your's,” was all he said after holding the item up. 

Morgana glanced between the two of them, a little delight in his eyes. “We don't have all night you know,” he said Akechi's way. 

Somewhere in the strangeness of it all Akechi finally got up and stepped around to join Akira behind the counter. “I'm going to say this probably won't go well.” 

“Why is that?” Akira asked back casually, handing him the apron and only then starting to pick out the items he would need. 

“Isn't that obvious? I'm no barista. I'd be learning from you.” 

“That's fine. If you don't have a lot of experience I can't expect you to keep up with what I know.” 

A pause nestled in between those words. Akira kept his eyes down on his work, gaze somewhat hidden by a reflection of light in his glasses. He laid out a pair of cups and stepped back. Only then did he look Akechi's way. 

“You've seen this done a few times at least. Where are you going to start?” 

Akechi finished putting the back of apron into a neat bow before tilting his head at the question. “Is this how you're going to teach me? A little rough isn't it? This is my first time you know.” 

Akira held his chin—a thoughtful look in his eyes. “So you aren't some kind of genius?”

He could tell that stung, but Akira held each word with a casual curiousness that perhaps he couldn't be blamed. Or Akechi preferred to take the higher ground. “Hardly. Detective work is a bit specific. Observation doesn't mean I can do everything for myself.”

“So how do you learn then?” 

The quickness of the follow-up left the detective searching for an extra second to sort it out in his head. “I...suppose by seeing and doing for myself. Isn't that how many people are?” 

A nod later and Akira's hands went to work preparing coffee one cup at a time. He took his time with the first round, silently demonstrating the motions, but no how or why—just the act. It was only once he finished pouring hot water into the dripper and it was starting to seep through the blend that he looked at Akechi. He made a gesture toward the empty cup. 

The pair exchanged looks; Morgana watched unblinkingly. Silence fogged up the room and no one made a move. Not for another moment at least.

Akechi didn't back down, his eyes still on Akira's a second longer before he had to break contact to see what he was doing. He silently urged a trading of spots and got to work trying to follow Akira's wordless lead. His observational skills took him far enough into copying the motions for the most part. Something was missing, of course. It would go unspoken for as long as he could get away with the silence and just watching what the detective would do. Something of a feeling of rivalry simmered in space between them, Akira deeply aware of the kind of focus Akechi was trying to play off as casual. He held himself well, but something outside of his plan left him open—or at least that was the impression Akira was getting then. There could be more to it, but for now it gave him something to play off of. 

Akechi finished his task, a little flourish in his pour over at the end. He put on a smile of confidence and yet still that same level of pleasantry that Akira had come to expect. 

“Well? How do you rate my performance?” 

“Taste test comes first,” Akira corrected him, moving first to lift the dripper and clean up. Akechi took that as a signal to remove his apron as he put it back then moved to take a seat at the other side of the counter. By then Akira was ready, standing behind the counter as usual. He moved first to take a sip of his own brew. Just the way the boss taught him. 

With the first cup mulled over for a moment, his hand moved for the cup Akechi brewed. He felt the detective's gaze fixed on him, an intensity in the look. In the end, he was competitive, wasn't he? 

Akira tipped the cup gently to his lip, the taste variation pretty obvious to him. He'd had Sojiro try enough of his own attempts to figure out what the old man was picking out as wrong—even if his feedback was lacking most of the time. It did feel a little good to get to be the one passing judgement this time. 

“It's off.” 

Akechi's eyes widened at the verdict. He didn't believe it, clearly, since he went right for the first cup, tasting Akira's work to test it against his own. “I want to see for myself,” he insisted once he'd had his drink. He moved to take his creation from Akira's hands, their fingers meeting to pass through the handle of the cup, an awkwardness unmistakable, but unavoidable in Akechi's hurry. It didn't even seem to cross his mind until he had the cup, fresh from his rival's lips that he considered it. Tension gripped the detective's shoulders a second longer before he drank.

Morgana and Akira both tilted their heads, waiting for a response. 

A sour, disgusted look etched into Akechi's face. It was clear the taste wasn't the cause. Not exactly.

“It is different...But I did it just the same.” 

Akira broke Leblanc barista rules for a moment and rested his elbows on the counter, his hands webbed together to catch his chin. Something of a grin teased the corner of his mouth. “A novice is going to make a mistake in the final moment.”

Something flared up in Akechi, but he persisted in his usual smile, even if the chuckle was broken by a hint of frustration. “I followed your instructions precisely, I don't know what you mean unfortunately.” 

“You poured the water over too quickly, it's weaker. But...” Akira trailed off for a moment to make sure he held all of Akechi's attention before breaking it off to settle back coolly, his hands back in his pockets, posture corrected to the usual. “It takes practice to get the timing right. You can't be a natural at this as much you are at handling yourself on the battlefield.” 

It was small, but Akira could feel Akechi holding back. The detective pushed to keep smiling. 

“I have some degree of practice in self-defense. Any detective worth his salt does. It seems to guide me well enough.” 

Akira grinned a little more back at him. “That explains it. Where you're lacking is probably something else.” 

“I'm lacking?” Akechi said back quickly.

Akira took his time, watching Morgana for a moment, who seemed very amused. “You handle yourself alright, but some part of how you are on the battlefield...something's off about it. I guess the coffee you made reminded me.” 

The longer it took the more it seemed to strain Akechi's patience. After his behavior in the Palace, Akira had to admit he was having fun holding this over his head. Blackmail deserved some punishment back. Even if it had to be petty.

“Well I am new at this after all,” Akechi relented through another of those television-ready smiles. 

“You know,” Akira started, directed more Morgana's way, “I think it might be important.”

“Oh definitely, it's major. Critical even,” Morgana agreed. 

Akechi straightened up more, if it were at all possible with his perfect posture, and smiled harder. “You'll have to tell me then. We do need to survive this mission. I can't be the one holding us back.” 

On that note Akira dropped it. “It's teamwork. You have no sense of teamwork.” 

“You communicate your moves kind of terribly. You're gonna hurt someone else at this rate,” Morgana added. 

“You do your own thing and it messes with the rest of us covering for each other.” 

“And your moves are kind of lame,” Morgana added in, definitely outside of the plan. 

Akira looked at Morgana over his glasses and the cat shrugged about as well as he could be expected to in that body. 

Akechi slumped slightly in his chair, his hands still clasping the cooling coffee. “That's a bit much, isn't it?” 

“You're a novice, remember? You're learning. But since you're not just following example, maybe you should try some team building exercises with me,” Akira said casually.

“Exercises?” Akechi repeated back.

“Right. What I usually do with members of our group.”

That remark hung in the air for a moment, Akechi curiously studying it as if he could know what sort of exercises the leader meant without actually asking. It seemed dangerous to dig in that moment. It was a take it or leave it offer, Akira's look said enough. 

“If we want to avoid some kind of major mistake during this operation I suppose all I can do is agree.”

“It's for the best,” Morgana said almost soothingly at the inevitability. 

With a big sigh Akechi leaned a bit further into his cup. He started to work on finishing what he'd made at least. Akira moved to do the same himself. 

“Are we doing this now?”

“Tomorrow. Let's meet after class.”

“Not going to the Palace?” Akechi said, sounding astonished. He hadn't considered taking a break, it seemed. “You don't simply push through it?” 

“No, we need breaks here and there. Pace yourself,” Akira answered and felt wise about it. 

“Very well...You're the leader after all. I suppose you know what's best. I'll look out for a message from you then?” 

Akira found himself smiling more easily. “You've got the start of it already. Don't worry. I'll go easy on you this time.” 

Akechi seemed to want to press that, but instead let it crumble away. The pair finished off their coffees, only talking about the flavor for that short time before Akechi stood up, looking prepared. “I should be off then. It sounds like a busy day is ahead of me.” 

“Look forward to it,” Akira teased a touch instead. The two exchanged looks that carried less intensity than those they had during their contest. The moment seemed too short in light of how gently it lingered and briefly it lasted. Animosity parted just long enough to recall the short meetings in the studio and at train stops. They had before really only existed in brief passes of each other. Today was the first they'd come close to much extended shared time. 

They parted with a few casual words, the bell on Leblanc's door jingling shortly on the heels of the detective. Akira took his time. Flipped the sign. Locked up. Shut down the lights. Made his way upstairs. 

Once he was settled and in bed, Morgana at his side, he lifted his phone and started to surf for around to distract some thoughts.

 

* * *

 

“There you are. Is this really the best place to meet?” 

The familiar voice pushed through the din of the games alight around them. Not as many other bodies occupied the arcade at this hour on a weekday. It helped make spotting Akechi easy, but he had a way of standing out. It seemed like the uniform Akechi had was built around his image. Being something of a minor celebrity helped him stand out too. He had that sort of made-for-TV air he'd probably cultivated somehow. Akira wasn't sure he wanted to know. Blending in worked well enough for himself.

The two traded looks. 

 

Akira leaned off the wall and stepped up closer so they could hear each other better. “This is where we're starting.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“We're starting here.”

The repetition did nothing to clear the confusion from Akechi's face. He blinked a few times, like that would do the trick, but that did nothing too. He parted his lips and after a pause tried again. “...Is there some kind of game here that helps teach teamwork?”

Akira pointed his arm out at some of the machines nearby, a stool at either side clear at the moment. “We're fighting first.” Unwilling to take more questions, he moved to take a seat, feeding change into the machine and gesturing for Akechi to sit nearby. 

Confused, but unable to really back out, Akechi took the seat at Akira's side, a hand fishing into his pocket for the right change. “Do I get any instructions for this one?” 

In a moment of pity, Akira leaned over and started pointing to buttons, describing each function shortly to make it easier. He could see some focus in Akechi's face as he tried to probably memorize it. Soon enough the two were ready, screens blazing in crisp colors and music mixing into the rest of the regular buzz of the arcade. Fighters were picked for the challenge, the boys' eyes fixed hard on their screen. A bit of that competitiveness flared back up as the countdown finished and both were left to their own devices in the battle.

Admittedly, Akira didn't play games that much, but Akechi definitely didn't play them often, if at all. The one thing he could tell he had over the detective was that he'd worked out guarding more often. The match gradually descended to button mashing on both sides, but the edge Akira had was enough to give him two rounds in a row. 

Clearly defeated and a tad frustrated, Akechi leaned back, his hand a thoughtful fist under his chin. “I would need more practice at this sort of thing as well...” he trailed off.

Akira took the signal well enough and stood, gesturing for Akechi to follow. The pair waded deeper into the arcade and, with a little prodding Akechi's way, the pair took on a few more games—shooting, drumming, racing. The first loss faded into the backdrop and conversation turned more natural—almost normal even. Somehow the goal of the meeting was lost in an hour or so and in another the pair found themselves thirsty and ready for a break—normalcy driving them to the diner nearby. It wasn't until both had settled down, drinks on the table and drank a quarter through before Akechi looked surprised, some kind of shock wedged in between the previous conversation. Akira waited. 

“That's odd...It seems we lost track of time and forgot our meeting's purpose.” 

Akira grinned in the slightest way, lips half sealed behind his knuckle, his elbow rested against the table. “This was the purpose.” 

A brief silence.

“I'm not sure that I follow you entirely...Games I guess can do something but...” When his deductions couldn't follow through, the leader took it up from his feeble grasping.

“It wasn't about the games. It was about the time.” There was a pause. “We work well as a team because we actually just hang out.” 

Akechi stared, blinking, before his gaze fell into his drink. “This isn't going to have me retract our deal.”

“I'm already doing what we are for Makoto's sake more than for your deal.” He let that hang for a calculated second. “But if you're going to be on the team, even if it's once, I might as well show you what it's like. Might keep you from killing us.”

Akechi's confusion turned even more flustered. “From what?” he blurted, his eyes terribly wide. 

“With you slipping up and playing solo in battles. That could get one of us killed. I'm trying to prevent that,” Akira said flatly. 

It was an easy motion to see. Akechi calmed, his hands folded into his lap, his eyes closed more gently. It all looked like a way to recenter himself. He sighed. “So in the end, this is for your teammates?”

“Yeah. It's always been about them. And you're in that group for now.”

Those last words drew Akechi's eyes open, contact made between them again with that sort of intensity in a way. That friendliness they'd teased out in the last couple hours would need time again, but this Akira could deal with too. Whatever this feeling was. Something gnawing at the edge of his thoughts and lurking at the bottom of his throat. He said nothing of it.

“I see. Then I'll do my best not to become a problem,” Akechi finally answered, some humility in his tone—something honest about this time. The controlled face of Akechi's personality eased for that moment reminding Akira a little of the day he'd come into Leblanc depressed. Whatever his case was, and whatever this ended in, a person still resided within the form of Goro Akechi. Akira withheld open pity. 

“Thanks. Hard to advise some big-shot celebrity,” Akira said with a small, amused smile.

“You're something of one yourself—even if people don't know your name,” Akechi answered pleasantly, perking up some. His wilting finished, he grasped his drink again. “Do you really do this with all your group members?”

“More or so. Different places sometimes.”

“They must be lucky to have such a leader.”

“It's the other way around.”

The answer came quickly and easily to him, but it seemed to surprise the detective. Still, his surprise softened. Something strained him deeper down, Akira could feel it, but Akechi gave him a smile regardless. “I suppose you are lucky to have them then...But it's been some time since I've been treated to an afternoon of anything.” 

“Anything for the team. You can reach out anytime if you need something,” Akira offered a bit more forwardly. “You have my information.” 

Akechi glanced aside. “Maybe some other time. I have matters to attend to early in the morning...” 

He couldn't put a finger on it, but some piece of that felt fake in a way he didn't really want to nail down. Maybe this was bound to happen—that Akechi would dodge and keep playing games with him. He'd hoped somehow things would turn around. The impossibility of it—the high stakes, low chances gamble pressed him harder than anything in the Palace had yet. But he wasn't going to win anything if he didn't gamble harder. 

“Too bad. I'll have to ask for another date later,” Akira said with the slickest look he had, eyes narrow behind his glasses. 

Akechi's grip on his phone and bag he gathered nearly faltered, his hands fumbling to catch both. “Excuse me...?” he got out only after disaster had been averted.

“Take it easy. We're meeting at the usual place tomorrow,” Akira said smoothly, a casual change in his looks. It was more fun when two could play games. 

Almost cautiously, even through the pink in his face, Akechi spoke, “Of course. I'll...see you then.” With that he said a short goodbye and hurried off, pace a touch quicker than usual as he pushed through the doors. Akira watched the space now absent of the detective for a long moment. He had to wonder how much he could get away with. It definitely got a rise out of him this time.

All his plotting came to a close as a stream of messages flooded into his phone. He picked it up, seeing the threads coming from Ryuji.

_“I totally saw you all cozy with Akechi in the diner and I had to split.”_

_“It was weird. Like how could I interrupt your moment? So I left.”_

_“Anyway I can't believe you're dating Akechi.”_

Akira took a deep breath as he looked at where the messages were posted to. He wrote a reply: 

_“Ryuji this is the group chat.”_

At that moment, every other Phantom Thief started typing.


End file.
